


a disorder of the mind.

by failoutboy



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Death, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medication, Mental Health Issues, OP has adhd, OP may or may not be projecting, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Hatred, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, totally not projecting my own issues on characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failoutboy/pseuds/failoutboy
Summary: Oliver Stapleton has always had a deep fascination with human life. Ending it, at least. He's searching for something to keep him tethered to the physical world, he searches for someone to hold on to. Every day he gets closer and closer to the beginning of his death. Every day his hands become a little more uneasy and every day he becomes just a little too aware of the sound his foot makes when he taps it.He meets Andrew Morning, and his life starts over again.





	1. 1 - Hi, I'm Oliver. I'm a little too aware of my hands.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the person who needs it](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+person+who+needs+it).



> Hello.  
> I'd like to thank you for finding this story. It's completely original, I'm writing this 100% on my own with no proofreading whatsoever. If you find a mistake, please let me know.  
> If you've read All the Bright Places, you'll enjoy this story. Or vice versa, whichever comes first. That story has had a lot of influence in my own discovery.
> 
> Original works don't get much traction here, do they? I hope you enjoy this. Sorry if I project my own emotional disorders on Oliver, we're quite similar. But I guess that makes for good writing, doesn't it.
> 
> Save yourself.

I never thought I would be standing up here. I never wanted to do this to myself. I want to be alive, I want to see the world. I don’t know why I’m up here. My face is cold, my ears are cold. I should have worn a hat. I can feel my hands becoming more uncomfortable where they sit on my hips. I smell the air.

The air smells kind. I can smell the rain of a day before, one that washed away all past sorrow. I can feel the warmth of today’s sun on my face. It feels nice. I’m breathing quite heavily as I look down. I see the city below me. I see the people below that look nothing more than ants up here. I’m wondering what to do.

I lift my left leg, the one that hurts the most. I lift it and lean over the edge of the building. I see down and I think my heart starts to fill. It feels peaceful. I am filled with the urge to lean forward more and fall. I need to jump. It’s too good of a day to die, I think. But I do it anyway.

I lean forward and feel my legs fall through the air. It feels like my head detached. The air feels cleaner than normal. My hands don’t feel quite as uncomfortable anymore. I close my eyes as I fall, as I drift into the pavement. The fall lasts a few seconds but it felt like forever. As I fall I remember my physics teacher talking about maximum freefall velocity. 8.5 meters per second. I think about what he’s going to feel when he hears about my death.

I feel myself hit the pavement. My body starts buzzing and my skin goes numb. I hear screams and cries around me. I hear the city cars and the subway line drive past me. A woman’s heels click by closely to what I think is my head. I try to move my eyes but I can’t see. I try to move my body but it doesn’t bother. I hear an ambulance after what feels like years. And then I see a familiar face telling me i’ll be alright.

It’s not until I wake up that I realize what happened. I’m laying naked in my bed with the covers off of my body. I open my eyes and move them around. My body is moving. I am alive.

I try to forget about the dream by 6:55. I get out of bed and throw clothes on at 7:00. I don’t bother to brush or do my hair. It’s 7:03. I almost forget by the time I leave my room. I meet my sister in her car, two minutes early than usual. 7:05. Usually I’m late, I don’t know what got me up faster today.

I try not to think of the tingling numbness as my friends talk around me. Their voices overlap the music through my ears, and I forget for a second. I’m left staring into the table as the clock hits 7:49. The bell rings not longer than a minute later, and all my friends scatter to their classes. I mumble a goodbye to the group before setting off on my own.

My first hour of the school day. Geometry happens to be the worst subject for me. I was unfortunate to get my worst class as the first in my day. I stop paying attention to the lesson halfway through the hour. I stare at the packet in front of me and think about nothing. I hear the teacher talk in the background, I hear scraping pencils and the occasional click of shoes down the hall. Before I know it, the bell rings and students are shuffling out the door. I grab my stuff and shove it into my bag, pulling it over myself and letting it hang at my side.

I get to my next class earlier than usual. 9:07. I forgot when class starts. I watch students walk into the room and find their desks. Roy from freshman year, I remember him. Sam from film club freshman year, I remember that. I’m too occupied with the thought of all of the old acquaintances to notice the bell had rung. Everyone takes out their notes and begins following the lecture. I forgot to pay attention.

Lunch came around and I met my friends inside the cafeteria at our usual lunch spot. I get the same sandwich as every day with the same coke. I listen to my two friends as they talk to each other. I occasionally add something in. They mostly keep the conversation going themselves. We leave together to go to our next class after the lunch bell sounds. I listen to the teacher, who is known around the school for being a little crazy, talk about loads of questionable theories.

The rest of the day goes by before I can get home. My mom doesn’t say anything to me, knowing I won’t respond anyway.

I forgot how to think again. I’m sitting at my desk, clicking through mindless video games and trying to remember how to think. My brain is quiet, which is unusual. These days are the worst. My brain is usually going a million miles a second but sometimes it just shuts off. The back of my brain feels numb and it’s buzzing again. My eyes don’t feel real, my hands don’t feel right. I’m suddenly aware of how much I tap my feet. I try to sit still but it doesn’t work.

Hours go by of just mindless video games before I get a chance to remember how to think. My friend calls me on discord and I force myself to answer. I listen to him talk while we play games together. I get a little sad when he hangs up but I go to bed anyway. 11:27. I’m asleep by 11:29.

Unfortunately, I wake up again. I go through the same routine. I wake up, I get ready, sit at school for a few hours and come home to play video games. Except this time I thought to disrupt my routine a little and turn my attention towards the stack of watercolor paper on my desk. I have two desks in my room, one for my computer and the other for my art area. Though most of the art-desk has become nothing but a place to put my trash, it has a few things on it. I shove the trash out of the way (“I’ll pick that up later,” I think to myself, knowing I absolutely will not pick that up later) and I dig my paints from my drawer.

I paint myself. I paint my wild and terribly-dyed black hair (theres a few spots of brown in it, but I don’t care anymore) and I paint my clothes. My oversized sweatshirt with an old tshirt with the same black jeans I wear every day. I have trouble deciding on a background. Where am I? Is it daylight? Am I having a good time?

I leave the background out of the picture. I keep it the same off-white color as the paper.

I go downstairs just as my dad gets home. He walks through the door, large briefcase in hand. I try to remember what he does for a living but I can’t quite remember. It has something to do with programming, I think. I remember him telling me he used to code, but I don’t know if he still does that. I keep thinking of what his job might be instead of listening to him talk about my grades.

He tells me I need to get them up. I don’t remember the last time I checked my grades, actually. I just go to school and do my work, I don’t bother studying for tests and I sure as hell don’t care. I didn’t plan on living until 16 so I never got myself into the habit of preparing for a future. My dad tells me I’m a smart kid. I respond with some witty remark and grab a soda from the fridge. I climb back up the stairs (Jesus, I am very out of breath) and make my way back into my cave. I walk over the clothes and the mess to my art desk, where my record player sits in the corner. I slide some 2000’s emo music (I don’t even like emo music, but they were $1 each and I wasn’t going to pass that up) and I sit at my computer. I click through some files, open and close a game or two, and eventually decide I want to do nothing.

I am very aware of my legs tapping again, I can hear my breathing and I feel my fingers tapping against the keys. I stop everything and sit in the music for a second. Although I don’t particularly enjoy this 2000’s emo music, I still listen. I hear the drumming, the bass in the background, I hear the keys playing behind everything. I feel the vocals.

I press my hands together and go back to my computer. Once again, I am faced with a troubling decision. I could play a game that requires concentration, or I could play a mindless game that will get me through the night. I turn towards the clock for the fifth time in the past ten minutes and I can see it’s time to shower. I go back to the video game.

My mom calls me and tells me to get in the shower. I tell her sure, I will soon, and then hang up. I don’t plan on getting in the shower. I continue my game until I see the clock hit 11:27. I’m asleep by 11:29.


	2. I can't feel my hands again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> updating four months after the first, so what.

I still can't feel my hands. I haven't had a single coherent thought today. My brain is going too fast for me to catch up and everything it says keeps bluring together. Everything people say around me doesn't sound like actual words. I hear them, I know that they're speaking English, but for some reason I can't piece together the information. My brain feels so grey, I can't help but remember the times where it wasn't this bad.

My hands feel number than they did a few weeks ago. It's been a while since I've written to you, maybe a few weeks at most. I don't know what's happened since then, dear reader. I don't really remember, I'm unsure if I could even recall what I had for lunch today. I don't even know if I ate lunch today, but that's besides the point.

I started a new painting last weekend. I didn't finish it, so the paints still are spread across my desk and all over the floor. I don't know when I got so messy. I try to clean my desk every week but I guess I've been forgetting to.

When I got home, I went straight to my room again. Mom has sworn me off of soda since she said I drank too much, but I didn't really care. As much as I would love to fight back and be angry over it, I just didn't feel like fighting her anymore. Not enough energy to do that right now, or ever. Just two more years and I'm out of here.

I got to my room and instantly sat down in front of my computer as I usually do. I click around and watch videos for a few minutes before slouching back in my chair and staring at the wall behind the monitor. There's nothing interesting to watch. I don't want to put the effort into playing video games right now.

I reach into my collection of vinyl and pull out a more recent one I found at an old garage sale. It was some French-Alternative that I couldn't understand, but it sounded nice. The dude sounded very angry and expressive, which I found interesting. I looked to my bed and got a feeling of guilt in my gut. I could be doing something productive right now.

Instead of listening to the guilt eating at my stomach, I collect a blanket from my bed and push a bunch of clothes and debris out of the way on the floor. My body crashed to the floor and turned on my back. I was left staring at the cieling as the vinyl played in the back of my head. Nothing came of that moment, I didn't feel anything, but I kept staring. I forgot to get up and be awake. Eventually, the vinyl ended and came to an abrupt silence. It took me a while of thinking to myself, "I should get up and turn it off" to eventually get up and turn the player off.

I end up standing and looking at the wall for a few more minutes before I head back to my desk and check Discord to see if anyone had messaged me. I saw a small +1 from a friend in a group chat, but it wasn't anything I cared about. I closed the tab and ended up playing another mindless video game for a few hours. The same one I always play, playing the same character and always losing the same way. Eventually I get annoyed enough to turn off the game.

When I finally got frustrated enough with the game, I turned to my art desk. The same unfinished painting sat there. A black background with white paint splattered in the front. Finger-painted words sprawled across the canvas.

"why is my head blurry?"

I look at the canvas before discarding it to the unfinished pile of paintings I don't want to finish. Instead, I sketch a few doodles on a piece of paper that I eventually decide aren't good enough to take further in the art process. I just flip the page and do the same thing. Before I know it, I've flooded the next five pages with useless drawings that I don't ever plan on bringing past the sketch phase. They all have wonky faces, all of them look the same, and none of them have any particularly good aspect of themselves. They're just bland.

I check the time on my phone. 6:33. I rub at my eyes and yawn. It may only be 6:30 pm, but I still feel tired for some reason. I turn to YouTube to entertain me for a few hours more.

I end up going to bed at 11:48 pm.

 

The morning comes too quickly, and I forget my dream by the time I make it to school. The only thing I remember is the bone-chilling numbness across my entire body that I felt a few weeks prior. I remember the footsteps and ambulance noises, but I try to ignore them. I feel an all to familiar sting across my arm and sigh internally. I don't remember doing anything last night but I assumed it wasn't good.

My second class was different today. One of the English teachers got fired unexpectedly in the middle of the trimester, meaning all the kids in his class are being spread to the other English classes until they can find a new teacher. There were only two spots left in my hour, and they got filled by two students I'd never seen before.

The first boy who came in was really short, maybe shorter than me. His hair was real short and brown but I couldn't tell what color his eyes were. His generic basketball shorts and plain t-shirt didn't really set him apart from the rest of the boys my age. My teacher scrambled to find any remaining seats in the room. There was one next to someone he apparently knew quite well, leaving the only remaining seat in the room next to me. A lot of my teachers put me away from everyone else for some reason. I don't know why, but I always get sat alone. I've never had an issue with it, though.

The second boy to come in was the opposite of the first boy, whose name I had heard was Jason. This boy was way taller than Jason (and me) and had striking black hair. I couldn't tell if his eyes were green or blue, but I wasn't paying attention much. I only saw him out of the corner of my eyes.

The teacher sat him next to me. I angrily pushed my bag off the chair and to the space under mine, then pulled all my books and papers from his side of the desk to mine and packed them neatly into a pile.

"Now that we have that out of the way, let's begin," She spoke loudly. "Jason, Andrew, let me get you packets and I'll get you caught up after class, right?" Jason responded but I didn't hear anything from the guy I now knew as Andrew.

The rest of class was alright. I didn't particularly enjoy reading but I got through the chapter quite quickly, at least quick enough to finish the homework in the same class hour. I spent the rest of the time doing a mindless sketch and listening to music I put on shuffle.

The class ended before I realized, leaving me to clean up my area after the bell rang. Andrew and Jason talked to the teacher while I tried my best to shuffle papers into my bag. A few fell on the floor and I felt my heart race as I picked them up and shoved them into my bag. I collected my items as quick as I could and accidentally made eye contact with the bright green eyes across the room.

My hands felt numb again as I left. I rubbed them against my skin but the only thing I felt was the cold.

I got home and checked Discord again. Nothing new.

I don't know how, but my night ended with a lot of blood and an empty wine bottle on top of my chest as I laid sleepily on the carpet in my bedroom. Stupid parents only had wine in the house.

I felt the familiar stinging pain on my arm again and scratched at it. The skin was rough. The blood was under my fingernails. I fell asleep to the sound of an empty record scratching lightly as I laid on the floor.

I hoped to myself I wouldn't be awake in the morning, but I was. I opened my compter, it blasted the text "SATURDAY, 12:04 PM" across the screen in an annoyingly ugly font. I keyed in my pin and it unlocked to a document that had a paragraph still waiting to be finished.

"If you're reading this, I've done it. I wante'd to look ... across the ocean, and, i dont know. i wanted .. to fin'd som ehting. i wanted to fall sasleep and oh god i just want to feel my hands again.. where have they gone .>>?? i cant find them anymore, oplease bring them back to me. i dont want to die, i just want tmy hands back again ."

I sigh and close the application, making sure to delete it.


End file.
